I believe there is no need for lies.

Hello, Bjork's house is amazing.
All about location, eh.

Hello.

"Knowing a great deal is not the same as being smart; intelligence is not information alone but also judgment, the manner in which information is collected and used."

- Carl Sagan

"Acceptance is not submission; it is acknowledgment of the facts of a situation. Then deciding what you're going to do about it."

- Kathleen Casey Theisen

And I decided to accept it. Le sigh.

Don't be like that. 

Just don't.

p/s I found my hat.

Stuffy/Before my roots grow out

Where is my black hat?

I lost my black hat!

Where could it be?

My friend said it was a beanie.

She's wrong!

It's a crochet hat!

And it's missing!

Where have I left it? 

In the car?

In my bag?

In one of my bags?

In the pile of clothes?

In one of the pile of clothes?

My friend said I left it in the bin.

She's wrong!

I loved that hat!

I have to have it back!

Moodboard

I feel like abandoning everything and just give my all to my work. I don't know whether to just go for it or divide myself and my time for things that matter as well. Prioritizing and making decisions are a true pain in the ass for an extreme type P like me. 

I can be a workaholic if I really went for it. I could go on days straight without sleep, driven by anticipation and curiosity of what the final result may be. I'd more often be disappointed than proud of my works, believe it or not but that's another topic I'd rather not discuss.

Do you know how you've been through life with some things left unexplained? Like you can't quite figure out why something happened to you or why some people said some things about you and then one fine day you just see something about yourself being pointed out to you and suddenly there's a click and everything made sense?

Well I realize that I really am just too much of a realist to be a romantic.

But in my head I like to romanticize everything, my failures included. 

I'm an artist. I will always be an artist. 

I don't think I will ever consider myself as a fashion designer.

Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies

The reason why I can't stand lies is because I don't understand the why. Are we all not in search of the truth? Or any kind of truth at all?

I find reality to be quite funny. Tedious little things we are. 

Maestro, a drum roll please, this is the golden age

bookmarked.

Love and obedience

comes hand in hand.

Someone from Israel went on stalker mode on my blog yesterday.

When the rain washes you clean, you'll know.

Tim Walker

 David Sims

Ben Hibon

The dark seeks dark

I've pillowed you so many times this week,

Close eyes, open, close again, forget and fall asleep.

A circus motorcycle stunt performer falls in love with a cancer patient and their ending is similar to the final scene of an underrated film from the early 90's.

Woe, woe, woe.

I update so little! Barely 10 posts since April? I feel like there should be more, given the times I sign in
on this thing. (And the fact that I still receive traffic on a daily basis is cray yo.) 
Yet all I do was look at the blank space, not really knowing what to write to who.

Note to self: Stop asking people how they're doing if you're not interested in knowing.

Favourite -

In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread,

till thou return unto the ground;

for out of it wast thou taken:

for dust thou art, 

and unto dust shalt thou return.

Genesis 3:19

Panic on the streets of London 
Panic on the streets of Birmingham 
I wonder to myself 
Could life ever be sane again? 
The leeds side-streets that you slip down 
I wonder to myself 
Hopes may rise on the grasmere 
But honey pie, you're not safe here 
So you run down 
To the safety of the town 
But there's panic on the streets of Carlisle 
Dublin, Dundee, Humberside 
I wonder to myself 
Burn down the disco 
Hang the blessed dj 
Because the music that they constantly play 
It says nothing to me about my life 
Hang the blessed dj 
Because the music they constantly play 

Stashed in draft.

Nausea by Jean-Paul Satre, The Society of the Spectacle by Guy Debord.

Currently,

the source of my sadness stems from the lack of space, room. To grow, to explore.

And also to store clothes. And materials. Damn fashion designing.

I'm going to have to get 300 more of those see through containers to keep everything in them and stack them up and line them up against the wall. And I'll start on that newspaper scrapbook project and it'll turn into just cutting newspapers randomly. Then buying more containers just to stuff all my newspaper cuttings in them. Then I'll line the containers up against all the walls I have until no sunlight can enter my living space. Then I'll start collecting dust. Dust motes to dust bunnies to the containers to the walls.

Damn you, fashion designing!

we all want the same thing.

"All men are like grass,
and all their glory is like the flowers of the field.
The grass withers and the flowers fall,
because the breath of the Lord blows on them.

Surely the people are grass.
The grass withers and the flowers fall
but the word of our God stands forever."

Isaiah 40:11

sworn to secrecy